The Broken Glass Effect
by Jessie Blackwood
Summary: Written in response to Krekta's story 'Finesse', this is a little something Ianto finds in his diary...


**Written in response to 'Finesse' by Krekta, my best friend and co-writer.**

**Disclaimer: Characters owned by RTD and the BBC. I don't own any of it, except maybe the idea for the story, etc. etc. etc., no infringement of copyright intended, no money being made, etc, etc. Just love them, just playing with them, like everyone else here. Any resemblance to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental, but if you see any resemblance to yourself, count yourself lucky, it was pure chance, OK?**

**Warning: M for adult theme.**

**_The Broken Glass Effect ~_**

Ianto sat down at his desk, coffee steaming gently and a particularly juicy-looking pastry sitting enticingly on a plate nearby. He had finally managed to grab some time to himself. That was rare enough in this Rift-manipulated world he lived in, at the beck and call of all manner of curious artefacts, alien visitors and unusual happenings of which he was a part, like it or not. Down-time was a thing to be relished and used well and he had just the right occupation to fill his time.

He opened his diary and turned to the next blank page, picking up his fountain pen in the process. The pen was an antique, one of those marbled blue and black ones with gold nib and a lever on the side for sucking up the ink. It was almost an affectation, given the intricacies of filling it, but it lent the process a creative connection you just didn't get with a computer. It made writing more _real _somehow. He was poised to begin when he registered that the end of the previous entry wasn't in his hand. The beautiful copperplate script filled half the page and when he backtracked through the last couple of pages to where it started he saw it covered three and a half pages in all.

It could only be Jack's hand, he thought, recognising it from the vast number of similar entries in the Torchwood archives. It had been learned in a time when there were no computers and 'difference engines' were looked upon with curiosity and suspicion and used only for accounting, if ever used at all. Jack had been required to learn a legible hand if only so the rest of the team could understand his reports. Emily had been particularly verbose about it in her own diary, citing that if Harkness didn't learn to write properly she would most likely break his fingers until he did. Ianto had no doubt Jack had listened to that, having gleaned his knowledge of Emily's nature both from things Jack had let slip and from her own writings. Today her personality would probably be referred to as '_assertive'_ when back then it would most certainly have been referred to as _'ruthless'_. Yet, as if to prove her wrong and obviously done with Jack's typical enthusiasm and style, he had learned the fashion of the day and made sure his written word was more elegant and charming than anyone else's.

That didn't explain why there was an entry in_ his _diary in Jack's writing though. Ianto was stuck half way between pique and curiosity. He knew Jack had read some of it. There was that time when he handed said diary back to its owner and then made that crack about measuring tapes. Ianto cringed at the thought. He had also been extra careful since to keep the thing under lock and key. So how had Jack managed to get hold of it again and how had he found the time to write in it and then replace it without Ianto knowing? Mystified, Ianto put the thoughts to the back of his mind. He could challenge him about it later. However, he had managed it and right now Ianto was more interested in finding out what he had written. He sipped his coffee before it had chance to go cold and began to read.

'I love your diary. OK, I'm confessing here and you know I don't often leave written evidence around for people to read like you do. Whatever, I confess anyway, I love seeing your soul illustrated before my eyes, seeing things I suspected confirmed or seeing new things which surprise me. I know this is secret stuff, stuff you want kept away from prying eyes, so here and now I make you this promise. From now on, I'll only look at it if and when you show me and I also promise I will never reveal anything within this book to anyone else, ever. But I really, really hope you do show me. I treasure this Ianto Jones, treasure your innermost thoughts and feelings, the unguarded you that you reveal within these pages.

I admit I feel like an intruder. I know you'll most likely hate it that I've read these words you guard so closely. I hope you don't hate me too much. I promise I haven't read it all. I found your diary by accident the first time, it fell on the floor and I saw something I hadn't meant to see and couldn't help wanting to put that into context. So I read some more. And more. And more until I found I was hooked as if I was reading a novel. Difference being, this stuff is true and I found it revealed the very complex character beneath the suit. It was really difficult to put it down, I might add, but put it down I did, eventually.

The more I read the more I found I understood. The more I saw the likeness between us. I know I made that quip about the measuring tape but I was trying to tell you it was OK, I understood. I'm smiling in recollection. You are no different to any other male of the species with that one, even me.

Back to what I read. I only want to tell you this Ianto. Sex really is only sex, its fun, it makes you feel good, you can make someone else feel good too, its an amazing high which is actually good exercise and yes, you can be justly proud of offing me that time too…although I'm embarrassed to admit it, you got me there. Hadn't realised the ropes were quite so tight. Coming back from that death wasn't as bad as usual, I can only conclude the endorphins from that were still rollicking around my system enough to offset the broken glass effect. Oh, and by the way, just so you know, I've always been careful with regards to STDs, there are some doozies out there that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy but would it interest you to know HIV is one of the worst in the known universe and you have some idea how far I've travelled.

I know I have more kinks than Spaghetti Junction* and I love it when you surprise me, I honestly figured I had nothing left to learn…how wrong I was. Love that. And yes, I know my experience and skills have been honed over lots more years than any mortal human has available so I have the advantage, but you are you, your skills are unique, never forget that.

Yes, we have sex, we have fun too, love it that you are as adventurous and kinky as I am. I am touched however, that you have recognised the difference in what we have compared to what I do with others. To paraphrase, I have sex with other people, that's what they're for. With you, I do make love. I hope, at the end of the day, that offsets the broken glass effect of having me read your secrets.

Please keep writing Ianto, don't stop. I have to tell you though, your diary will never make it to the archives. I'm afraid its destined to remain with me, wherever I go. It'll help me make sure I never forget.'

_***Spaghetti Junction ~ Notorious UK motorway junction near Birmingham in the Midlands with many loops and twists. I'm sure its really a Mobius strip and you are never intended to find your way off it…**_


End file.
